


Loose Cog

by sweetbabyrayray



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Self Harm, Older Boys, Plot, Queerplatonic Relationships, Swearing, Trans Dib (Invader Zim), college age dib, minor depictions of violence, not much but some i try to keep it light, qpp zadr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbabyrayray/pseuds/sweetbabyrayray
Summary: Zim's Pak has been showing signs of malfunction for some time now, causing him to black out unexpectedly every once in a while, but he's been keeping it to himself. Dib is now a college student who just wants to graduate to please his father, and when he finds out about this, he forces Zim to take action. Now they have no choice but to embark on an epic journey through space in hopes of repairing Zim’s Pak before he blacks out again... and doesn’t wake up
Relationships: Dib & GIR (Invader Zim), Dib & Gaz (Invader Zim), Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), GIR & Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 116





	1. bro we are straight up not having a good time right now

**Author's Note:**

> one year ago i told myself "i'm not going to get into invader zim. yeah the movie was fun, and yes i watched some of the show as a child, but there's no way i'd like it enough to write a fanfiction or make art about it"
> 
> ...
> 
> anyway, enjoy my fic about two boys learning about themselves and each other while also suffering great trauma. thanks for reading, i love you

Droning. That was all Dib could hear coming from the professor at the front of his classroom, who was duly standing behind a podium, speaking into her microphone in a low, monotone voice. She was very likely lecturing something important, something he needed to be taking notes on to pass the next test. But all Dib could hear was a low, methodic droning buzzing in through one ear and out the other.

He pressed his cheek further into one of his hands, sinking closer and closer to the desk, that’s supporting his entire body’s weight. Soon, his willpower to stay awake would surely give out. It was only a matter of time… an expected end to attending a two hour class at 8:00 AM on a Wednesday when the attendee had insomnia. Never again, he vowed, not even for the luxury of finishing classes early in the day.

Someone nudged his shoulder, a little too roughly, he thought bitterly, but without looking he already knew who it was.

“Stop falling asleep, stink brain,” a voice said. It was a voice that lived rent-free in Dib’s brain; a constant grating of years remembered, rued. “ _You_ are the one who assigned yourself to this ridiculous course. The very least you can do is stay awake during it.”

Dib glared at his seatmate. Zim was looking back at him smugly, as if enjoying the anger in Dib’s expression. Knowing Zim as well as Dib did -- and, sadly, Dib knew Zim better than he really wanted to -- Zim actually was thriving off of being the cause of Dib’s frustration. 

It was made all the more weird knowing the fact that Zim shouldn’t even be here. Zim wasn’t actually in this class. In fact, Zim wasn’t a college student _at all_. Out of the blue, about a month or two into Dib’s first semester, Zim had just...started showing up. He’d followed Dib to class one day and had just started attending them like he’d applied and paid tuition, same as everyone else.

And the most frustrating part? The professors didn’t even notice, or if they did, they didn’t care enough to say anything. Some of them even accounted for him being there and handed him assignments. The whole thing was ludicrous.

It had been a confusing (and admittedly, frustrating) situation at first for Dib, but by now he’d adjusted to it. In fact, he was so used to it by now that Zim’s presence was an expected component of his college experience now.

Not that he’d ever tell _Zim_ that.

“You’re one to talk, space boy,” Dib whispered back. “Don’t think I missed you nodding off a couple minutes ago.”

Zim scoffed, waving a hand around in an animatedly dismissive gesture. “Your memory deceives you, Zim does not have any need for sleep. Us Irkens--” He stopped quickly, looked around at their peers, and then started over. “Eh-- I mean, I don’t know what an ‘Irken’ is. I am human, and-- and I’m a human who does not require any sort of recharging to be at peak performance.”

“Whatever you say, Zim,” Dib said with a roll of his eyes. He turned to stare back ahead at the professor, pretending to listen.

Zim was lying and they both knew it, but starting an argument in the middle of class wouldn’t solve anything, especially knowing Zim’s obsession with winning. Dib had noticed the dark rims underneath his ally’s inhumanly large eyes. They weren’t always there, but Zim always seemed to be much more lethargic than usual when they were visible, almost as if he really was a regular college student who was just having difficulty sleeping.

But Dib knew better. Zim’s species had no need for sleep. Dib had figured that one out a long time ago.

The professor began giving her closing remarks and the familiar sounds of shuffling papers and unzipping backpacks echoed through the classroom as everyone started packing up their belongings to leave, Dib included. He gently tucked away his notebook - which was actually less notes and more doodles of cryptids - and slung his backpack over one shoulder. Zim was right behind him, the two of them shuffling across the classroom toward the exit.

The bright, unforgiving sun was on them the moment Dib pushed open the large double doors. He grimaced, shielding his eyes from its harsh rays with an overturned hand.

“Wretched heat,” Dib heard Zim mutter disdainfully. “Your planet’s sun is a plague upon this land, Dib-for-brains. I wish you would let me destroy it.”

“You literally know why I won’t let you do that.” Dib hiked his backpack higher on the one shoulder and then started the familiar trek towards his dorm. “You probably know better than any of us what a lack of sun would do to a planet like ours.”

“Yes, yes, I _know_ ,” Zim drawled out. “Personally, I’d like to see your planet become a ball of ice. You wouldn’t even have time to scream in terror.” He was strutting next to Dib like a soldier in the army, hands behind his back and head held high, his strides long and deliberate. It was funny to watch, really, because Zim’s legs were much shorter than Dib’s, so he had to walk far more quickly than he normally would in order to keep up with Dib’s pace. “I still think that would be an improvement, personally. You-- I mean, _us_ humans could use some cooling off.”

“What, can’t handle a little 100° weather?” Dib teased, reaching over to ruffle Zim’s wig. 

Zim swatted his hand away with a glare. “I said nothing of the sort. My Pak caters to all of my needs, including the regulation of my internal body temperature.”

“Yeah? So does the human hypothalamus, you’re not special.”

Zim shoved him, but there was no real weight behind it. Laughing, Dib shoved back with the same amount, or lack, of force. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, but something was off to Dib. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but there was something about the way Zim was acting that didn’t seem quite right. His walk was confident, but it lacked his usual steadiness. His expression was resolute but there was a certain exhaustion hidden behind his eyes and buried in the lines of his frown. And, of course, the eye bags were present, much easier to see in the glaring sunlight than in the dimmed light of a classroom with powerpoints. Most concerningly of all, the glowing pink lenses on his Pak seemed to be less vibrant… closer to gray, now that he was looking at it.

Dib wasn’t usually one to be worried, especially not about a literal _space alien_ , but he couldn’t stop the concern from creeping into his gut. He desperately wanted to ask Zim about it, but Zim was always too quick to jump to defense at any insinuation of weakness. 

He was walking down the outside campus stairs, lost in his own thoughts, when suddenly he heard a loud _thud_ from behind him. And then another, and another. Before he had the chance to turn around, Zim’s body rolled past him, rolling clunkily down the concrete steps.

“Zim?!” Dib raced down after him, reaching out to try and catch ahold of his childhood enemy. His hands grasped air, and he helplessly watched as Zim tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, lying facedown on the concrete. His Pak was sparking and smoking and his skin looked an ashen shade of green. 

Dib kneeled down, carefully turning Zim over and holding him by the shoulders, giving them a shake. His skin was burning hot and the pit of concern in Dib’s stomach turned icy.

“Zim? Zim?” He shook harder. “What the hell, man, wake up!”

Still, there was no response. He looked around and saw that none of the other students had even noticed the situation, or if they had, they didn’t care to linger. No surprises there, he’d lived around these people his whole life and they never noticed anything. Not even the actual space alien living among them.

Ten years ago, this would have infuriated Dib, but now he was just tired. There really was just no point trying to expose Zim anymore when no one had or would ever take him seriously. He looked back down at Zim’s unconscious form.

He realized suddenly… This could be it, this could be his big chance. He could call for the school nurse, or maybe even an ambulance, where the chances of Zim’s secret double life would be impossible to hide. Just one x-ray would be all it would take... 

As he continued to stare down at Zim’s slack face, though... his stomach twisted within itself. It had been so long since he’d had an opportunity like this, and last time he’d been so gung-ho. But now he just felt… he felt…

Dib carefully lifted Zim’s limp body off the ground and, without allowing himself the chance to second guess his decision, continued his trek back to his dorm.

\--

“What, so, he just passed out? Out of nowhere? Lmao.” 

“Yeah, I was surprised, too. Also stop saying that with your mouth, it’s weird.” Dib was pacing the small floor space of his dorm room, phone to his ear while his free hand pinched his brow. “We were walking down the stairs and then suddenly he just. Was falling. It’s entirely possible he tripped and hit his head on the way down... But like, I didn’t even hear a noise before he hit the ground, Gaz. If he’d tripped, the whole campus would have known.”

“I guess it’s weird he’s still out,” Gaz said, voice tinny through the phone’s speaker. “Doesn’t his weird backpack thing like… start healing him almost immediately?”

“That’s another thing, his Pak was turning like... _gray_ right before he fell,” Dib said, standing still for a moment to look down at Zim, who was tucked into Dib’s bed, sleeping peacefully. From the angle he was standing, he could see that Zim’s Pak was still mostly gray, but had regained more of its pinkish color. “It was emitting sparks and smoke when he collapsed. It’s almost like the Pak itself is the reason he fell.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then.” Dib could hear some faint clacking noises in the background, recognizing the sound of Gaz playing one of her video games. “I assume you’re going to grill him about it when he wakes up.”

Dib grimaced at the thought, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He felt the mattress dip drastically under his weight; a reminder of just how small Zim really was. Sometimes Zim’s confidence, and general terrifying aura, made Dib forget the very real fact that Zim was a whole head smaller than him.

“I want to,” he eventually said, “but I don’t think he’d take it well; he hates when people imply he’s vulnerable. I was actually thinking about going to get us some dinner and crossing my fingers that he just wakes up while I’m gone so we can pretend it didn’t happen.”

“Dib.”

“I know, I know, ‘communication is vital to social relationships, and avoiding issues only causes conflict and hurt feelings between both parties in the end’.” Dib buried his head in his free hand. “I’ve heard that spiel from my therapist more times than Zim has called me a liar for something I definitely wasn’t lying about.”

“If you’re that much of a coward then just ask his stupid dog about it.” Gaz swore under her breath and the clacking became twice as vicious.

“Gir? You think _Gir_ is a reliable source for information?” Dib could have laughed. “No... I don’t trust anyone in that house… including the _house_! The only way I’m going to get answers is if I suck it up and talk to Zim.”

“Glad to see we agree on something. Text me if he doesn’t kill you.” The dial tone rang in Dib’s ear, signaling that his sister had hung up on him. Her attitude may have seemed unnecessarily harsh, but Dib knew better. When Gaz was finished with a conversation, she always made sure you knew, and Dib could only respect her for that. He’s lucky she answered the phone at all; he’d had to wait for her to get out of class, and while she certainly hadn’t seemed happy to be called, he was grateful she’d stayed on as long as she did just to listen to him vent. 

“Gh…”

Dib looked down at the source of the murmur to see Zim furrowing his brow. On his back, Zim’s Pak seemed to have returned to its usual, happy glow, and even Zim’s skin looked less ashen than it had. After a moment of struggle, his eyes shot open and immediately landed on Dib. Neither of them moved.

Finally, Zim spoke. “You’re sweatier than usual.”

“No thanks to you,” Dib shot back. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to carry an unconscious space alien over a mile in this kind of weather?”

Zim rolled his inhumanly large eyes, but the edge of his frown twitched for a moment. “Feeble human… You and your pitiful Dib-self wouldn’t have lasted half a cycle of the trials on Devatis.” He sat up on the bed, throwing the blanket off of himself and hopping to the floor.

For a moment, Dib forgot the issue at hand. “Oh yeah?” he asked, trying not to sound too interested. “What kind of trials?”

“Oh, just your usual kind.” Zim was turned away from Dib, arms folded. “Obstacle courses, war simulations…” His tone was slightly off, almost as if he were nervous. “They were to determine who was worthy to take on the title of an elite invader.”

“Elite invader...” Dib echoed, eyes shining. “You must have passed then!”

Zim stiffened. “Yes, Zim...passed the test.”

“So then--”

“We will speak no more of this!” Zim interrupted, sounding distressed. “I must be leaving, Gir is waiting for me, we’re on Floopsy’s fifty-sixth season.”

Instantly, Dib’s jovial demeanor vanished as he remembered his original mission. “Wait, don’t leave yet, we should talk about what happened.”

Zim still didn’t turn to look at him. “Your previous claim that Zim fell unconscious is absurd, Dib-liar.”

“And yet it happened,” Dib argued. “You just...blacked out with no warning. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for almost four hours.”

Zim’s shoulders hitched. “Eh?” From his back pocket, he withdrew the phone Dib had helped him pick out last summer. In the back of his mind, Dib felt a faint tinge of relief that they’d settled on an armored case to protect it from Zim’s eccentric activities. Or in this case, unprecedented acts of falling down stairs. “Four hours… That’s longer than… expected…”

“Wait, what was that?” Dib belatedly realized he’d risen to his feet. “You _knew_ this would happen?!”

Now Zim whipped around, anger clouding his face. “Silence! The Dib knows nothing about what Zim does and does not know!” He was waving his arms around like one of those huge tube-like balloon men on the side of the road. “Yes, there have been more gaps in my memory than normal, but it is not because I’ve been ‘blacked out’ as you so crudely put it. It is not unusual to suddenly be on the floor or lying with your face in a plate of waffles!”

Dib just stared at Zim, who was huffing and puffing with rage, face tinted red from exertion. Had he really just been waking up in weird places with no memory of how he got there…and assumed it was _normal_?!

“I think...that’s not the complete truth,” Dib said slowly, carefully. “Memory gaps are... _usually_ something to be concerned over.”

“Lies!!” Zim shrieked, finger pointed sharply at Dib’s face. “Look, I will _prove_ that I have been fine.” He furiously rolled up one of his gloves and pressed a button on the communicator around his wrist. A hologram of a tiny robot shoving something into his mouth hovered above the device.

“Gir!” he barked, and the robot stood to attention, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. “Tell our disgustingly meat-filled human about your master!”

“Ooh, okaaaay!” Gir said with a manic laugh. “My master likes to spend allll day watching Floopsy with me!!! Sometimes he gets real schmoopy though… I think my master needs more friends.”

Dib raised a brow.

Zim’s face was going redder and redder, from rage or embarrassment, Dib wasn’t sure. “Not _that_ part, Gir! Tell him about how I have been in perfectly functional and normal condition.”

“My master doin’ real good!” Zim began to give Dib a smug look, but Gir wasn’t done. “He sleep all day sometimes, I’m so happy for him!!! He always look so _tired_.”

“All day, huh?” Dib echoed, crossing his arms.

“ _Okay_ , that’s enough, Gir!” Zim slammed his finger on the off button, cutting the communicating short. He coughed, straightening himself up to feign confidence. “As I was saying, I am completely healthy and there is no need to worry--”

“Just cut the bull already, Zim,” Dib said firmly. “Are there any Irken doctors you can talk to about this?”

Zim groaned, rubbing his forehead aggressively. “There…are...Pak technicians, yes.” He suddenly sounded rather exhausted. 

“Great!” Dib was already excitedly crouched next to his backpack, digging around for his car keys. “Let’s go call one up, and--”

“It is not so simple as that, ignorant _worm_ ,” Zim said with a hiss. “You and your big head have _no idea_ what the past several years have been like.”

Dib stopped short. “What are you talking about?”

Zim snapped his mouth shut.

“Zim.” Dib stood back up, keys clenched in one fist. “ _What are you talking about?_ ”

There was no immediate response. Zim turned back towards the door, gripping the handle so tight Dib could hear the metal straining under his fist. He winced. That would be coming out of his deposit for sure.

“We will call Skoodge tonight,” Zim said curtly. “If you would like to attend our meeting, then you will arrive at my base at precisely 6pm.” And then he was gone.

Who? Dib had probably heard that name once or twice in his life but couldn’t place a face to it. Regardless, he did feel moderately better knowing that Zim was taking some kind of action. With a long sigh, he tossed his keys onto the floor and collapsed onto his bed, sending Gaz a quick “I lived, bitch,” text and praying for the sweet release of a midday nap to overtake him.


	2. dib’s phone password is gaz’s birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys call Zim's old colleague, Skoodge, for advice on what to do regarding his malfunctioning Pak. Dib talks to Gaz about their plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can really tell i have my drivers license in this one
> 
> trigger warning for minor self harm

Zim’s finger had been hovering over the call button for several, long minutes. He looked conflicted, maybe even a little nervous if Dib was being completely honest; however, despite the tediousness of sitting on the floor of Zim’s basement while Zim, now out of his human disguise, stared off into space for ten minutes, Dib refused to comment on it. He needed to let Zim do this in his own time, even if it took all night.

From somewhere above them, Dib could hear the television playing that weird cartoon show Gir was always watching. Gir’s high-pitched screams of laughter echoed through the corridors, much to Dib’s chagrin, but fortunately, there was enough distance and physical ground between them that it was barely more than an annoying buzz in his ears.

As Zim zoned out, Dib decided to take a look around Zim’s basement. It had been several years since he’d managed to be down here, and last time it hadn’t been voluntary on Zim’s part. The memory of the days when he used to fight tooth and nail to obtain proof of Zim’s condition felt like a lifetime ago.

The basement was dim, shaded a deep, desaturated purple. Above and around them, Dib could see long, tube-like wires coming out of and plugging back into the walls. Many of these wires could be seen around the very large computer system Zim had set up, protruding out from it like they were snakes on Medusa’s head. There wasn’t much else to see other than a few very old-looking robots gathered in a corner, covered in layers and layers of dust. Dib assumed they were remnants of those action packed days, many years ago, when Zim and Dib would fight to the death over the fate of the planet.

Dib was surprised to see they were being given such little level of attention. Yes, he and Zim had made a sort of truce back in high school, but he hadn’t expected Zim to stop using his inventions altogether.

In fact, it was then that Dib realized that Zim hadn’t spoken of wanting to take over the Earth in a very long time.

A loud beeping sound resonated through the basement and Dib realized that Zim had finally, _finally_ pressed the button.

A squat, bluish-green Irken -- Skoodge, Dib guessed -- appeared on the computer screen. His eyes were smaller than Zim’s, but they were a similar red color and they held a certain anxiety behind them. His uniform was stained from an unknown substance and he was standing in what appeared to be a desert wasteland.

“Zim…?” Skoodge said with what was almost certainly disbelief. “We thought you were _dead_.”

“Nonsense!” Zim said loudly. “The Almighty Zim will _never_ die!”

“No, really,” Skoodge insisted. “The Tallest said it themselves. They said we would never hear from you again.”

Dib frowned. That’s an odd thing to declare when Zim had surely never given them any reason to believe he wasn’t alive.

Zim’s entire body went stiff. “Yes, yes, the Tallest are always telling such amusing jokes.” He slammed his hands on the dashboard of his computer. “ _Regardless_!! I am here to speak with you on a completely separate matter!!”

Skoodge furrowed his brow. “Okay, Zim... What is it?”

“Yes, so.” One of Zim’s tiny feet was tapping uncontrollably, Dib noticed. Was that a nervous tick? “What does it mean when an Irken repeatedly falls unconscious, without a known cause or any control over the matter?

“Um.” Skoodge’s face was blank, seemingly from utter confusion. “Zim, are you having problems with your Pak?”

Zim’s hands slammed down on the dashboard again, but this time in fists. “NO! No no no!!!” he screamed, clenched hands coming down with every word. “I am perfect! My Pak is in perfect condition! This scenario isn’t _about_ me and also is purely hypothetical!!” He gripped his head angrily, pulling at his antennae in a way that looked horrendously painful.

“Okay, okay.” Skoodge had his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “So then… this ‘purely hypothetical Irken’ is having problems with their Pak. They need to see a Pak technician.”

“I _know_ that,” Zim snapped. “But how would this Irken _find_ a Pak technician willing to help him?”

“If you know you need to find a technician,” Skoodge started impatiently, ignoring Zim’s shrieks of “ _I_ don’t need one!!” before finishing, “then you already know where they’re located, Zim. They’re here on Irk.”

“No, no, _no_.” Zim was furious, he was pacing the grounds, his fists pounding against his bare head. “Not if I’m -- I mean, if they’ve been banished.”

Oh. _Oh._

Suddenly, things were starting to make sense.

Skoodge’s large red eyes softened just a little. “Well… if that’s the case, then they would need to seek out an Irken who has defected from the empire.”

Zim perked up. “Of course…” He ran to the computer, climbing onto the dashboard and pressing his face against the screen. “Skoodge! My loyal and trusting comrade, where can I find a defective technician?!”

Skoodge rubbed his chin. “There are...rumors...of a technician who defected many, many years ago. It’s said that they went to live as a hermit.”

“Where?!” Zim demanded. “I need specifics, Skoodge!”

“Give me a moment, Zim, I’m trying to remember.” Skoodge tapped a gloved finger against his face, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth. “I know it started with a S...”

“Sintinia? Salvestin?! _Salt_?!?” Zim guessed desperately.

“No, no… ah! Sunabon! It’s a planet in the easten regions of the Androxium galaxy. I don’t know the technician’s name, though, sorry.”

“Sunabon...” Zim’s stiff shoulders finally relaxed, as if he’d been released of a very large weight. “Yes, this information has been sufficient. Your services are no longer required, Skoodge.”

Dib was about to chastise Zim for not even saying ‘thank you’ to the Irken he’d essentially bullied for the past five minutes, but Zim had hung up the call before he could.

Zim turned to Dib, clearing his throat. “Right!” he exclaimed. “We have our coordinates, Dib-stink. Tonight we leave for planet Sunabon.”

“Tonight?” Dib jumped to his feet, disbelieving. “So soon?”

“Of course, fool boy, there’s no time to lose!” Zim hopped off the computer, hands on his hips. “Go back to your Dib house and pack enough to last to the end of the weekend.”

Normally, such a spontaneous trip would have Dib beside himself with paranoia, but… this was a space mission. His first space mission with Zim as an ally, rather than an enemy. To say he was excited was an understatement. “What kind of planet is Sunabon?! Is it a highly populated place? Do you think we’ll meet other aliens there? What kind of flora--”

“ _Enough_ ,” Zim said, but he was smiling. Just a little bit. “We can discuss this on the way there.”

“Yes! Got it!” Grinning from ear to ear, Dib practically sprinted across the basement towards the elevator. A space trip! Dib could feel himself practically flying with every step he took, over the moon with excited anticipation. New aliens! Different worlds! Maybe Zim would even allow him to take his camera, if he promised not to capture Zim’s true form on film.

This would be the first real adventure Dib had had in quite a long time.

—

Dib shoved his feet into his favorite timberland-style red boots. “I told you, Gaz, I’ll be back on Monday. Probably.”

“Yes, because you sound so sure about that,” Gaz said in a flat voice, not looking away from the game she was playing on the Membrane television.

“Don’t worry about me,” Dib assured her, tying up his shoes. “Besides, I’m not going alone.”

Gaz made a _tsk_ noise through her clenched teeth. “Bold of you to assume I’d worry about you,” she said. “You’re not an idiot, Dib, I know you can handle yourself.”

Dib looked up from his laces. “Aw, Gaz.”

“Don’t read too much into it.” Her character on the screen did a running leap and suddenly Gaz was mashing buttons, the click-clack of her controller reverberating through the room. “I’m more worried about what Dad will say if he finds out you’re skipping class to go.”

“It’ll be fine if I just don’t tell him. Besides, I have straight A’s in all my classes. Missing, like, two days won’t hurt my grade average.”

“I’m just saying, he won’t be happy, Dib…”

“I’ve been busting my _ass_ at this college for him, Gaz, if he can’t be happy with just that then I don’t know what to tell you,” Dib said coldly. “Zim needs me to go, I’m not going to stay home just because it’ll make _dear old dad_ more disappointed in me than he already is.” He’d finished tying his shoes but couldn’t stop staring down at them. “Besides, he’s not around enough to even notice I’m gone.”

Gaz was silent.

Silence was usually a bad sign. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.” Gaz always hated it when he talked poorly of their father.

“No, you’re right,” she said, much to his surprise. “If Dad asks, I’ll cover for you.”

Dib brightened. “Really? You mean it?!”

“On _one_ condition.” Gaz had paused her game so he could actually look over at him. Dib sobered himself. Gaz never turned away from a game unless she was deadly serious.

She peeked one eye open to squint at him. “If you don’t come back by Monday, I will hunt you down across the far reaches of space and drag you back here by your cringe-ass cowlick.”

A bead of sweat trailed down Dib’s forehead. “R-right.”

With a nod, she turned back to her game. “Now get out of here. He’s been glaring through the window for the past couple of minutes and I promise you, if he breaks through it, I’m gonna rip the antennae right out of his head and use them as a satellite.”

Dib turned around to see, as she’d said, Zim’s fake, purple eyes peeking from the bottom of the window, fingers clenching the sill. Despite the impatient expression on Zim’s face, Dib almost laughed when he realized Zim was barely tall enough to see through the window.

“Alright, alright.” Dib stood up, brushing off his pants. He grabbed the handle of his suitcase, extending it so that he could pull the case around on its wheels. “I’ll see you Monday, my dear Gazlene.”

A book flew at his head. “Don’t push it.”

Dib opened the door to see Zim standing with his hands on his hips, a foot tap-tap-tapping against the concrete walkway.

Grinning, Dib mimicked Zim’s stance, right down to tapping in sync.

Zim’s eyes widened, breaking out of his stance. “Y-you dare mock _Zim_?!”

Dib just laughed, eyes crinkling. “I’ve got everything I need, space boy, I’m ready to get out of here,” he says, gesturing to his suitcase. “Are you?”

“Insolent Dib boy!” Zim huffed but he was failing to hide his grin. “I am ready. I’m the _most_ ready. You and your enormous-sized head will never fully comprehend exactly how _ready_ I am right now!”

Dib stared blankly. “What does that even--”

“Do not question me! Off we go!”

With a laugh, Dib allowed Zim to tug him to his car in the driveway, bouncing on his heels and tugging at the passenger door handle.

“Did you walk all the way here?” Dib asked, turning the key in the lock and opening the driver’s side door. He pressed the button on the inside to unlock all the doors and then threw his suitcase in the backseat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

“Of course not, silly Dib.” Zim slid into his seat as well, kicking his legs back and forth. Dib coughed, gesturing towards his seatbelt pointedly. Zim rolled his eyes, but clicked it into place. “I ran.”

Dib snorted. “Damn…that’s commitment, I guess.” He shifted his car into reverse while pushing in the brake, placed an arm around the neck of his seat as he looked behind him, and pulled out of the driveway. “Do you want to pick the music this time?”

“Zim always wants to pick the music.” Zim grabbed Dib’s phone out of the pocket of his trenchcoat, ignoring Dib’s “Hey!” of surprise, unlocked the password and picked out a nursery rhyme on a music app.

“Hey, you’re not using my data are you?”

“Of course not,” Zim lied. “Anyway, why was the Gaz sister holding you up?!”

“She was worried about me missing class,” Dib said. “Actually, no, she’s worried about _Dad_ worrying about me missing class.”

Zim snorted. “Zim does not care for your parental figure.”

“You and me both, dude.”

They stopped at a light. Zim was still tapping on Dib’s phone, Dib realized and he snatched it out of Zim’s hands. “What are you even doing—“ He looked at the screen. The music app was minimized (normally a useful function but now, regrettable) and his social media was up. There was a new post from his account that had gone up one minute ago.

Dib looked over at Zim, squinting. Zim was grinning back at him.

“You know,” Dib said. “Maybe I won’t come with you to space—“

Zim gasped with horror, a hand over his chest. “You WILL come! You do not get to back out now!”

“Delete the post.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not coming.”

“THE DIB IS NOT ALLOWED TO NOT COME!”

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Zim tried to stand up, but his seatbelt locked at the sudden movement, forcing him back against the seat. “YOU— oof.”

Dib laughed. “That’s karma, bitch.”

“Permit Zim to remove this safety harness!!” Zim shrieked, wrestling against the belt.

“I’m not getting pulled over today,” Dib said. “You’re lucky we’re here, though.”

And so they were. Dib had just pulled onto the curb next to Zim’s weird, fake house, squished between two real houses, on the end of a cul-de-sac. Every time Dib saw Zim's house he once again remembered how stupid and unnatural it looked. It literally had wires attached to the houses it was between, sucking the power out of its neighbor's homes, _and_ had a bathroom door for an entrance. Also it was just... so small?! No human family could live comfortably in a house so goddamn tiny! But even with this damning evidence before them, still no one noticed the alien lived within. Yes, Dib had stopped trying to make people understand this, but that didn't mean he couldn't be salty about it.

Zim unbuckled, smirking up at Dib sinisterly. “Is the Dib ready to undertake our mission?”

Dib couldn’t help but grin back. “More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! tell me your thoughts in the comments and ill show you how hard i can cry (spoiler: a lot)


	3. the most convincing lies are the ones you tell yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys start their space adventure and Dib finds out something new about Zim's Pak.

“So, have you learned anything about the planet we’re going to?” Dib asked, his suitcase rolling behind him. The street up to Zim’s house was bumpy and small rocks kept getting caught under the wheels, so he was trying to be quick as they walked.

“There’s not a lot of information on it,” Zim said with a shrug. “It makes sense why a defective Irken would want to hide out there.”

“I suppose so.” Dib couldn’t deny he was disappointed, and also a little anxious. He hadn’t known what kind of weather to prepare for so he’d just dressed in his usual trenchcoat.

They stepped up the sidewalk as they approached Zim’s house. Dib nervously eyed the guard gnomes outside Zim’s front door, and they eyed him back. None of them shot at him, but Dib watched them all the way up until they entered the house just in case.

Gir was sitting on the couch in his dog costume with the head down around his shoulders like a hoodie. Dib stopped in the doorway, watching in awe as Zim allowed wires in the walls to come down and take hold of both his contacts and wig, stripping him of his human disguise. Free of his facade, the alien strode over to stand in front of Gir and the television.

“The Floopsy marathon is over, Gir,” Zim said curtly, hands behind his back. “It’s time to go!”

“Okay!” Gir said happily. “Carry mee?” His eyes went huge as if he were a real puppy.

Zim rolled his eyes. “No, Gir, you have legs.”

Gir’s eyes grew twice their size and he blinked a few times very quickly. “No, I doooon’t,” he begged. “Pleeeease? I promise I’ll be good this time.”

Zim squinted. “No more trying to eat my head?”

“Yes sir!” Gir saluted. “I mean, no sir! I only eat babies!”

Ignoring Dib’s immediately shocked and horrified expression, Zim nodded, accepting this compromise, and said, “That’s a good Gir,” while picking Gir up as promised. He then turned back to Dib.

“Come, Dib-beast, the voot is in the attic,” he said, Gir resting on his hip like a toddler.

“U-uh,” Dib stammered, “right.” He paused. “He…doesn’t actually eat babies...does he??”

“Don’t worry about it.”

\--

The attic’s ceiling was lower to the ground at the entrance and then raised higher in the middle of the room so Dib had to crouch at first, nearly on his hands and knees. The voot was sitting in the middle of the attic, much larger than it had been when he was twelve, clearly having been modified heavily over the years. Dib whistled, straightening back up once he was next to the ship.

“Wow…” Dib said, impressed. “You’ve been busy!”

Zim was entering behind Dib, Gir now on the floor, free to run around the attic. “Yes, yes,” Zim said, his head held high with pride. “The voot’s sharpware has been nearly entirely remade and--”

“Wait, wait,” Dib interrupted. “Do you mean _soft_ ware?”

“Don’t be silly, worm boy. There is nothing soft about my wares.”

Dib didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he placed a hand on the windshield, which now no longer covered the entire top of the ship, but only the front. Through the glass, Dib could see that the cockpit had been enlarged and had three seats rather than one, two in the front with a smaller one in the middle behind them.

“You’ve added a lot of new components,” he said, running a hand along the purple exterior of the ship. “Even the engineering seems different than usual.”

“Very observant of you, Dib-beast.” Zim swiped his hand along the surface of the windshield and the glass lit up for a moment. When it settled back down, a couple of strange characters were blinking back at him. Dib vaguely recognized them as words from the Irken language.

“What does that say?”

“It’s a password system so that my ship can’t get stolen by nosy worms like you,” Zim said while typing on a holographically projected keyboard. At Dib’s offended gasp, the alien turned to give him a teasing grin as the windshield evaporated. “But since you are my ally, and we will be going into space which could warrant danger, I will entrust you with the password just this once.”

“Oh?” Dib asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s ‘Dib-has-no-friends’.”

There was a long silence, followed by Zim’s high-pitched, manic laughter as Dib swung a fist at his head.

“You little—! That’s so stupid!” Dib’s fist whipped through the air, catching the tip of Zim’s antennae as Zim ducked out of the way, cackling.

“The Dib cannot run from the truth!!” Zim’s hand shot up, grabbing Dib’s wrist out of the air, twisting it around and pinning it behind Dib’s back. “You also cannot best the _Almighty Zim_ in hand-to-hand combat!”

“Alright! Alright! Uncle!” Dib whined, laughing. Zim’s grip wasn’t painful or tight, and his claws were sheathed behind leather gloves, leaving no marks on Dib’s wrist. Dib could have easily shaken free.

“Who’s uncle do you mean?” Zim peeked around Dib’s waist to give him a very clearly taunting glance.

“ _You_... fine! I give. I surrender!” Dib was still laughing. “You win, bug boy.”

Zim puffed up like a peacock. “Very good,” he said smugly, but he looked genuinely happy.

“Now.” Zim picked up Gir, who was clinging to his leg, and started strapping him into the backseat, which Dib now could see really was just a hand-made, toddler’s car seat. “Stay in your safety harness, Gir, and I will graciously reward you with some of Dib’s snacks later.”

“Hey!”

“Snacks!!” Gir shrieked, feet kicking. “They belong in my mouth!!”

“No, Gir!” Zim scolded. “You have to wait.”

Gir pouted. “But… I’m a good boy and I deserve them.”

“Then prove your goodness!! Stay in your seat and WAIT.”

“Boooo.” The little robot crossed his spindly arms in a tantrum. “This is homophobia.”

Ignoring him, Zim turned back to Dib. “There is a large space behind Gir’s seat for your human luxuries, stink Dib. I await your gratitude for Zim’s thoughtfulness.”

But Dib was busy squinting suspiciously at Gir. “Are you sure we should bring… _him_?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Realistically, I could just promise Gaz a weeks worth of pizza to babysit him while we’re gone.”

Zim waved a hand dismissively. “Gir is part of the team, stupid Dib.”

“I guess…” Dib stared warily at Gir, who had already forgotten his annoyance and was playing with a spinning toy he’d been keeping in his head.

“I’m a baby!” the little robot said cheerfully. “Wait… does that mean I have to eat myself?”

“Gir, no--” Zim tried, but Gir was already chewing on his own hand. Zim ran his own hand down his face. Dib just grimaced.

“Enough dawdling!” Zim seemed to have reached his wits end as he angrily stamped his foot. “We’re wasting time standing around!” With a huff, he turned to climb into the pilot’s seat.

“Right, yes, sorry.” Dib turned to climb into the ship without looking and accidentally knocked his head against the roof, yelping from the impact. Rubbing his forehead, he ducked down and crawled inside, gently tucking his suitcase behind Gir’s seat. Strangely, there was already some kind of weird board tucked in there. A skateboard? Dib wasn’t sure what that was needed for but decided not to question it just yet. Zim pressed a pink button and the windshield materialized into place.

As soon as Dib was in his seat, he could feel the engine starting. Zim was typing something on an interior keyboard this time. None of the symbols were labeled in English or gave any indicator of what they were for. Dib could feel curiosity stirring in his gut.

“Hey, Zim,” he said hopefully. “Do you think you could explain what you’re doing?”

“Why would I want to do that?” Zim asked, sounding a bit disinterested. The ship began to hover off the floor. He pulled a lever at the top of the ship, triggering the top of the attic to split open like the gaping maw of a shark.

“I think it’d be useful for me to know. It’d be bad if you happened to--” He caught himself before he said something that might trigger an aggressive response. “I just think it’d be smart, y’know? We can split the drive, even! Gaz and I do that on long road trips--”

“Unnecessary,” Zim said. “The ship functions on autopilot.”

“It could be good for later though,” Dib insisted. “You know that I’m a quick learner, and I’m really interested in—”

“Zim said no.” Angrily, Zim grabbed a lever in front of him, pulling it upwards. The ship tilted in the same direction, flying up through the attic and into the gaping sky.

“Ahh, so that lever does the steering then,” Dib remarked excitedly, leaning in to get a closer look at it. “So it was under here, huh? Does it have any--”

“Stop with the questions!” Zim shouted. “Zim is flying!!”

“Right, right, sorry.” Dib backed off, but couldn’t help peeking over to watch Zim’s movements anyway. He watched with peaked interest as Zim typed into the keyboard again and the ship’s rockets came to life, lifting the ship into the sky at three times its original speed. The back of Dib’s head hit his seat as they took off, unprepared for the sudden motion. He reached forward instinctively, fumbling to grab onto the dash, and closed his eyes as they broke through the atmosphere, the world he knew disappearing below them.

“I’m going to have to switch to FTL travel if we’re going to get to this planet within the next century,” Zim said, glued to the keyboard again.

“Dude, won’t that like... _kill me_?” Dib asked.

“Probably,” was his answer. “I’m initiating the stabilizers first, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have invited you along just to kill you.” Zim turned to him with a sharp-toothed grin. “Don’t want your corpse stinking up my ship.”

Dib punched Zim in the arm. “You asshole.”

The second the stabilizers kicked in, Dib felt the difference. It was like stepping off a rollercoaster after going upside down one too many times. He grabbed his head, trying to keep himself steady as his body adjusted.

Looking back over, Dib noticed Zim was still typing furiously as if he were engaged in a heated competition.

He was too curious, he couldn’t keep the questions back. “What are you typing for?”

Zim groaned. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?!”

“Yes…”

Grumpily, Zim grabbed Dib’s coat and pulled him closer, pointing at the strange symbols.

“You cannot speak Irken, so you won’t be able to decipher what these mean,” Zim said matter-of-factly. “But essentially I type in commands and the ship listens. Some functions I programmed differently, but that’s a rare few. Right now I’m shifting us into fast travel.”

“Ohh, I see!” Dib looked over the symbols. “Are they basic commands then?”

“Quite the opposite,” Zim said haughtily. “I need to be as specific as possible when instructing the ship or it may do the wrong thing.”

“Sounds like some kind of monkey’s paw situation. Can you teach me what the symbols mean?”

Zim laughed. “Silly Dib, it’s just the Irken alphabet. You would simply need to know Irken to read it.” He shook his head. “And sadly, your pitiful brain will never be able to comprehend the complexities of the Irken language.”

Dib puffed out his cheeks. “Don’t underestimate the human brain, Zim,” he said, arms crossed. “We learn languages all the time, and we learn them manually. We don’t have ‘universal translators’ to lean on like you.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do.” Zim waved a hand dismissively. “Now leave me be, I tire of your nose.”

Dib’s hands flew up to his face self-consciously. “What’s wrong with my nose?!”

Zim hissed, tongue sticking out like a serpent’s. “You know what I mean, stinky Dib! Your-- your incessant curiosity! Keep it to yourself!”

“Ugh, whatever, man...”

They were quiet for a moment, and then,

“Actually, can you get me my gummy worms?” Zim asked. “They’re behind my seat and I can’t reach them from here.”

“I don’t know, Zim,” Dib said mockingly. “I think my pitiful brain is unable to comprehend the complexities of listening to you. Maybe you should get them yourself.”

The look Zim gave him was enough to leave Dib in stitches. “You are insufferable. Forget it, I’ll just starve then.”

They were silent for a while after that, Zim staring off into space and Dib reading a book from his suitcase. It was a book about a legendary sea monster, one that Dib had searched for himself in his younger years. Recently, he’d been spending all his time on his schoolwork and hadn’t had any time for cryptid hunting, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read up on them when he had the time.

Unfortunately, though, his reading was cut short when Gir got bored of chewing on his carseat and started singing really loudly. Dib groaned and covered his ears.

“Zim, shut him up!” he yelled, trying to be heard over Gir’s shrieks. “Doesn’t this bother you?!”

When he looked over, Zim was staring straight with an expression not unlike a mother who had been woken up by her baby for the tenth time in the same night.

“There’s no stopping him now,” Zim said lifelessly. “It’s best if we just resign ourselves to hearing Floopsy’s theme song on repeat for the next four hours.”

Oh hell no. Dib turned around in his seat. “Hey, Gir, how about we play a game?”

Gir immediately stopped singing. “A gaaaame?! OOoh what kind?!”

“Let’s play the quiet game, okay? Whoever can be as quiet as possible the longest wins!”

Gir gasped. “I will be the winner!!” He clamped his mouth shut, covering it to muffle any sound, but unable to keep himself from giggling behind his hands.

“Alright, ready?” Dib held up three fingers. “Three...two...one...start!” He turned back around, opening his book back up to where he’d left off, ignoring the bug-eyed look Zim was giving him. He looked like he was about to speak, but Dib was quick to press a finger to his lips before he could.

After about ten minutes, Gir forgot about the game and whipped a coloring book out of his head, whispering little ooh’s and ah’s as he colored a pink dinosaur. Dib was grateful he’d chosen a quieter activity this time.

Meanwhile Zim looked exhausted next to him. They’d only been flying for maybe two hours, but his shoulders were sagging and his eyes drooping.

“Hey, dude, are you okay?” Dib asked, shaking Zim’s shoulder. Zim immediately snapped out of the trance he was in, sitting ramrod straight.

“Zim is fine,” he replied stiffly. “Flying is just… very tedious.”

That made sense. Dib understood how tiresome driving his car for long periods of time could be. It was reasonable to assume flying a spaceship would feel similar, even if it was on autopilot. Thankfully though, he and Gaz had methods they used to keep themselves distracted on roadtrips, and he had a feeling Zim would enjoy them.

“Hey, question.” Dib pointed at a flash of red, whizzing by them at lightning speed. “Are there lots of different colored stars like that one out here?”

Zim looked at him quizzically. “Yes? Of course there are. Space is infinite.”

“I bet I can spot a yellow star before you do,” Dib challenged. “If I see one first, I get to punch you.”

“What?!” Zim sputtered. “What if _I_ see it first?”

Dib grinned sinisterly. “Then you get to punch _me_. But you _won’t_ see it first, I’m a pro at this game.”

“We’ll see about that!” Zim grinned back. He turned back to the endless beyond before him, but this time with much more vigor.

Dib searched the expanse, eyes flickering back and forth in search of the aforementioned color. Space was really beautiful, now that he was taking it all in, even if it was whizzing by him at the speed of light. Millions of stars were speckled around him, some bigger than others, some so faint he had to squint to see them. It was mesmerizing, Dib could stare all day.

BAM! Zim’s fist collided with his face. With a startled cry of pain, Dib fell off his seat, hand flying to his bruising cheek.

“I spotted it first!! Take THAT!” Zim cackled, shaking the sting out of his fist. “You were no match for the _Almighty Zim_!!!”

Dib rubbed his face. “ _Dude_! It’s supposed to be in the arm!!!”

“You should have clarified that in the beginning, then!” Zim snarked, but he was holding out a hand for Dib to take. Glaring half-heartedly, Dib waved Zim’s hand away, climbing back into his seat himself.

“Let’s do purple this time!” Zim suggested. “I don’t see a lot of purple planets, it’ll be a bit more of a challenge.”

“You’re on, bug boy!”

A few hours, and many many bruises later, the boys finally decided to take a break from the game before they ended up causing nerve damage to each other. Zim had packed some healing ointment and forced Dib to let him apply it to his very red arm.

“This medicine is amazing, the pain is already going away!” Dib remarked. “Is it made by the Empire?”

Zim didn’t answer right away, rubbing the salve on Dib’s bruise in a methodical manner. “I made it myself, actually.”

Dib did a double-take. “Dude, seriously? Wait, though, doesn’t your Pak heal all your injuries for you?” he asked. “Why do you need medicine?”

Zim shrugged. “We all need a quick fix sometimes.” The bruises were healing as he spoke. They didn’t go away completely, but they were definitely less obvious.

“That makes sense.” Dib eyed Zim’s own shoulder, which was covered by his uniform. “Well, thanks for doing that for me. Can I--”

“No, I’ll do it myself later,” Zim interrupted, already knowing what Dib was about to suggest. “I don’t even feel it anymore, thanks to my Pak.”

Dib squinted, and then stealthily reached over to slap Zim’s shoulder.

“SHI--” Zim yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin, hands coming up defensively. “I-I mean! That didn’t hurt! You surprised me! How dare you surprise Zim?!”

“You’re lying!” Dib accused. “Is your Pak not administering pain killers?”

“It is!” Zim insisted. “It’s just! Doing it a little slower than usual. But it’s not a problem for someone with as high a pain tolerance as me!”

Dib raised an eyebrow. “Zim, please let me help you.”

“It’s fine, I can handle it—!”

“ _Zim_.” He was looking at Zim intensely, brow furrowed with determination, and hoped the message was clear.

Zim stared back, eyes wide, unblinking. Then, with a grumble, he took hold of the neck of his uniform, carefully pulling it over his shoulder. The skin there was twice as red as Dib’s had been. Had they not been punching each other with the same level of force? Maybe Dib had gotten too into the game…

Without a word, Dib took the healing ointment from Zim, squeezing a small amount onto his palm and gently rubbing it against Zim’s injury. Zim hissed at the contact but made no more noise after that, turning to stare out the window at the great expanse of space.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Dib murmured. Zim grunted noncommittally in response.

Dib wasn’t sure why he felt the need to help Zim feel better. He got the same stomach-twisty feeling he’d gotten earlier when Zim had passed out on campus when he thought about it. Maybe he was just becoming a better person…? No, that couldn’t be it. Dib had never been a good person, and two years in therapy wasn’t about to fix that.

Was it Zim? Had he done something to make Dib feel horrible at the thought of Zim being in pain? It was possible. Zim had brainwashed him before. But he always managed to snap out of it, and these feelings were so real. Dib prided himself in being able to tell when there was something genuinely wrong with his brain (which there were a lot of things, but brainwashing wasn’t one of them).

Regardless, as the red of Zim’s shoulder faded back to its usual green, the knot in Dib’s stomach faded as well. “Okay, you’re done.”

“Finally…” Zim pulled his sleeve back up, still not looking Dib in the eyes.

Dib suddenly yawned, quick to cover his mouth. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize how tired I was.” Their distraction game had worked a little too well it seemed. He pulled out his phone to check the time. Unfortunately, there was no signal in space, but the clock was still working. 1:46am.

“I gotta sleep, Zim,” Dib said, suppressing a second yawn. “If you need me, wake me up, alright? I’m a fairly light sleeper.”

“Zim won’t need you,” was his tart answer. Ouch. “We won’t be arriving for another estimated three hours. Will that be enough time for your feeble body to recharge?”

Dib grimaced. “I’ve slept for shorter amounts of time, Zim, I’m a college student.” He reached behind Gir’s seat, opening his suitcase to pull out a pillow, and then curled up against it on the seat. “Goodnight.”

If Zim wished him goodnight back, Dib didn’t hear it. Normally it took Dib a long time to fall asleep, but the white noise from the buzzing of the ship and the shuffling of papers from Gir’s coloring books were unexpectedly soothing. Someone’s hand was on his head, gently patting his hair down, but he didn’t have the chance to process it before drifting into a comfortable sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [slaps fic] these boys can fit so much repression in them
> 
> thanks for reading. if it werent for the distance between us i would have hugged you


	4. jhonen, please give zim a hoverboard he deserves one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zim and dib find that traversing this planet is going to be harder than they originally thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe. i dont have a schedule hohoho

“Dib-thing! Get up! Hey! HEY! Heyyy!”

Hearing Zim’s shrill voice right next to his ear wasn’t exactly Dib’s favorite way to wake up, but he supposed it was less traumatizing than the time Gaz had screamed into an air horn one of the days that he forgot to wake up for school. Grumbling, Dib turned over in the squishy passenger’s seat, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

“You insolent beast, how dare you ignore the great Zim?? Our destination planet is visible, stupid boy!”

Dib shot up. “What?! We’re here?!”

Zim was smiling at him, antennae standing straight up and eyes crinkled just a bit. “Yes, I have been attempting to show it to you! Look, see!?”

Dib pressed his face and hands against the glass in the area Zim was pointing, his big brown eyes glittering from the reflection of the stars. “Whoa…” he whispered, awed into speechlessness.

The planet was breathtaking. It was a beautiful, warm red color with splashes of purple throughout. From what Dib could see, there were two small moons caught in its rotation. It was smaller than the Earth, maybe two-thirds the size, and judging from what Dib could see, it seemed like a planet that could support life. As they got closer, Dib realized that the atmosphere was pink, and the purple he saw before was actually a sort of ocean. He also realized that he was getting very, very warm.

“Zim, why is it so hot?” he asked, wiping the gathering sweat off his face. “Is there air conditioning in here?”

“Yes, spoiled human,” Zim said, typing something quickly. Colder air began circulating through the ship, and even though his eyes had no pupils, Dib swore he was rolling them. “I had a feeling you would ask for that, so I made sure to install it _just_ for you. Be grateful.”

Zim had spoken rudely, but Dib really was grateful. “I am,” he admitted, placing a hand on Zim’s shoulder. “That helps a lot. Thank you, Zim.”

Zim stiffened, just for a moment, and then shrugged Dib’s hand off. “Don’t ever mention it. Anyway, it’s hot because this planet has three suns, but we arrived at a good time. The planet is further from two of the suns than it would be at a different time in its rotation. We’ll just need to be relatively fast.”

“Can you tell how long we have?”

“Let’s see.” Zim typed a few words and then an image of the planet pulled up on the windshield like a projector, showing the three suns and two moons orbiting it, along with some words Dib couldn’t read. “It seems to be moving rather slowly, probably due to having two moons. My computer estimates somewhere between twenty to thirty hours before it becomes fatally hot. That should be enough time to search the planet.”

“Perfect,” Dib agreed and pulled out his camera, which Zim had permitted him to bring, running a thumb along its surface. “Maybe I can even get some pictures for my college thesis.”

Zim gave him a quizzical look. “Not to prove aliens exist?”

“Ah--” Dib blinked a few times. “Y-yeah, I can do that, too! Of course.” He rubbed his forehead, confusion overtaking him. What was wrong with him? Why was Zim the one whose first thought was exposing the truth? Was he going crazy?

“Anyway, we’re gonna touch down in a few minutes,” Zim continued. “Which is enough time to play a song.”

“I want to pick!” Gir screamed, ripping out of his seatbelt. “Beep boop boop beep!” He pressed a few buttons randomly. A cup holder popped out of the dashboard, then a tv monitor took over the windshield before disappearing again, and then finally an audio track began to play a slow love song.

“Gir!” Zim scolded. “At least play a song that ‘pops’!”

Dib wheezed. “Zim, I think you mean ‘slaps’.”

“Zim said what he meant!”

Gir hummed, thinking for a moment before pressing another button. Mother Mother blasted through the speakers.

“Much better,” Zim said.

“Yeah, alright,” Dib agreed.

“I have taste,” Gir said, satisfied.

\--

The voot settled against the ground, red dust sprinkling around them from the impact. Dib tried to pay attention to what Zim was doing as he turned off the engine. He watched as Zim waved a hand between them and a small, weird-looking lever appeared out of thin air, each separate piece popping into existence before Dib’s eyes. Zim flipped open the top with his thumb to press a hidden button underneath and then yanked the lever backwards. The engine powered down. As soon as the ship stopped moving, Gir shrieked with joy, bouncing around the back of the ship.

“Ah, I see!” Dib said excitedly. “So that lever controls the engine; is it motion-activated?” He waved a hand over the empty space between them, but nothing happened.

Zim snickered. “Silly, stupid Dib,” he teased. “It won’t appear if the engine is off.”

“Wait… are you telling me you have a _separate_ button and/or lever for turning the engine _on_?”

“That’s right.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit asinine? Why don’t you just have a keyboard command--”

“Do _not_ question my genius!!” Zim shouted, flushed from embarrassment.

Hands in the air, Dib just laughed. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. “So then, which one--”

“ACK!” Suddenly, Zim ducked behind the dashboard, his antennae flat against his head.

“Huh--?” Confused, Dib was about to ask what was wrong when he suddenly heard voices from outside the ship. Outside the windshield, a small group of aliens were surrounding them, carrying guns, with a couple of ships parked behind them. They were rather small with heads that were on the larger side compared to their bodies, with their skin shaded various types of green and-- wait… oh _no_. Those were _Irkens_.

The tallest Irken barked something in a language Dib didn’t recognize, leaving him at a loss. They were looking Dib dead on, their huge yellow eyes piercing right through him. Terrifyingly, their blaster was as big as their head. Something told Dib that if he didn’t comply immediately, this Irken would shoot him dead before he had the chance to beg for his life. His hands shot up in a gesture of surrender.

“Dib-stink, the button for the Doomtastic Particle Destruction Ray is the big red one near your elbow!” Zim hissed, sounding strained. “Take them out!!”

“ _Yeah_!” Gir shouted from behind them. “Let’s commit a homicide!!!”

“I’m not doing that!” Dib cried. “Just--just--”

The Irken was shouting again and Dib noticed the blaster was beginning to glow. They needed to get out of the vehicle right now.

Dib’s mind was going a mile a minute. “Oh god, oh god… Zim, just-- Zim--” Zim needed to hide now. “Get inside my coat, Zim!”

“ _What?!"_

“Don’t argue with me!” Dib ordered, standing up from his seat. “Do it now!”

Zim stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes for one moment and then shuffled underneath Dib’s coat, climbing up his back. Zim had grown a few inches since their childhood, so the maneuver was a little clunky. He felt Zim’s arms and legs wrapping around his torso from behind.

“I’m coming out!” Dib shouted at the Irkens, then whispered. “How do I open this thing, Zim?”

“Place your hand to the glass,” Zim answered, voice softer than Dib had ever heard it. “Slide it in a circle and then push.”

Dib did as instructed and the glass disappeared underneath his fingertips. A wave of intense heat hit him the moment he did, but he just grit his teeth and grabbed the ends of his coat, pulling them closer around him to hide Zim’s limbs.

“Hi, um… one second, sorry,” Dib stammered at the Irkens, who hadn’t dropped their weapons. “I’m coming out. Sorry.” The Irken just grumbled impatiently in response.

Dib stepped onto the dusty ground, not taking his eyes off the Irken group for a second. Behind him, Gir jumped out as well and Dib prayed that he would keep his mouth shut. The Irkens were shouting something at him again, and Dib felt his stomach churning from anxiety. A few of them ran past him to scope out the inside of the voot.

“I-I, I have no clue what you’re saying.” Dib could feel sweat running down his neck, and not just from the heat. “I’m… I’m not used to-- to space travel, um.”

The tallest Irken stared at him for a second and then cleared their throat. “I see,” they said in perfect English. “Does your feeble mind understand my speech now?”

“Ah, yes, um, thank you,” Dib said, dipping his head.

“Marvelous.” The Irken pointed their blaster right at Dib’s head. “Now--” They stopped, looking Dib’s appearance over. “Are you concealing something within your coverings?”

“Um. I have a skin condition,” Dib said without thinking. He felt Zim snicker against his back at the irony.

The Irken squinted. “What kind of condition?”

“It’s like… it’s. A huge tumor. Enormous, in fact. It’s, um. It’s very oozy and gross. I should probably get it checked out.”

“...is this normal for your species?”

DIb shrugged, sweating buckets. “I’m probably dying!”

The Irkens huddled together for a moment, whispering loudly, and then branched back out, blasters still pointed at Dib. “Why are you in possession of an Irken ship?”

“That’s my master’s!” Gir chirped, arms wrapped around Dib’s leg. Dib cringed.

One of the other Irkens gasped at the sight of the tiny robot. “A...a sir…” they said in a surprised tone.

“What’s wrong with it?” another Irken piped up, horrified.

“I’m perfect just the way I am,” Gir said cheerfully.

All of the Irkens shuddered.

The tallest Irken growled at Dib. “Explain yourself, tumor boy. And it better be satisfactory or I put a hole in your big head.”

“My head isn’t big!” Dib protested. “I’ve grown into it!” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I, um. I’m a human from the planet Earth. The reason I have an Irken ship is because…” When in doubt, stick as close to the truth as possible. “My planet was raided by an Irken invader intent on conquering it! However, my planet’s environment harbored a lot of, uh, toxic substances, and he didn’t survive.” He smirked to himself. “He was a very, very incompetent invader, the fool barely lasted half a day. He decided to walk out in the rain and died on the spot like some kind of--”

Zim bit him.

“OW--! _I mean_ \-- um. T-tumor. It hurts sometimes.” Dib cleared his throat. “Anyway, uh, he died. So I tracked down his base with his robot and ship and I decided to, well, commandeer them.”

The Irken studied Dib, then the ship. “Hm,” they murmured. “This ship looks very...abnormal.”

An idea struck him. “Um, yes! I upgraded it myself, but I only had parts from my own planet,” he explained. “And, and I scrambled the robot’s circuits. He does whatever I say now.”

“I’m a good boy,” Gir agreed. “Master, can I have snacks now? I was good! Like I promised!”

It was immediately obvious that Gir was talking to Zim and Dib felt Zim’s claws anxiously digging into his shirt.

“U-uh--” Dib stuttered.

“Sir unit,” the tallest Irken said sharply, now looking down at Gir. Gir didn’t respond, though, he was too busy tugging at Dib’s coat.

The Irken tried again. “Servant, do not ignore your superior.”

“Well, he’s not a servant,” Dib said, a bit annoyed.

“It lives to serve its superiors,” the Irken snapped. “That’s the definition of a servant, human.” They laughed unkindly. “You’re awfully slow for having such an enormous head. Are all humans this dull?”

Dib was burning with rage...and also from the intense, sweltering heat. “His name is Gir, and he’s not a _servant_!” Bravely, he squared his shoulders and stepped closer to the Irken, who he realized was actually rather small now that he wasn’t slouching from the weight of Zim on his back. The Irken looked up at him and there was fear behind their bright yellow eyes. They must have been maybe five foot tall, a measly comparison to Dib’s menacing six foot two. The Irken’s antennae flattened against their head, but they kept their chin high, refusing to back down.

“He is _my_ robot,” Dib said as authoritatively as he could manage. “But more than that, he’s my ally. You will address him as Gir and Gir _only_.” Under his coat, Dib heard Zim’s breath hitch.

The Irken’s face went ashen. “I...” They stammered and then looked around at their team of Irkens, who were reacting similarly. “I will make an exception. This one time.” They turned to Gir, who was in the middle of tasting the ground. “Ah… _Gir_. Where is your master?”

Gir hopped to his feet, saluting. “My master… is…” He looked around. “Um… he…”

It seemed that Gir had forgotten where Zim was hiding. He looked around, turning up stones, around the back of the ship, anywhere he could think of. Tears started welling up in his big robot eyes, breaking all laws of physics.

“My-- my master…” Gir burst into sobs. “He’s _goooooooooooone_!!! I miss him so mmuch!!!!” He began to scream, and all of the Irkens grabbed their heads in pain.

“Shut it up!!!” one of the Irkens begged. “For the good of Irk, shut it _up_!!!!!!”

Dib kneeled down, patting Gir on the head. “Hey, Gir, I’ll give you those snacks you wanted if you stop screaming. They’re in my suitcase.”

Gir immediately stopped. He smiled up at Dib, blue eyes shining. “I want chips!!!” Excitedly, he ran back into the ship. Dib heard a zipping sound and then the sound of the shuffling of clothing.

“Okay, look.” Dib turned back around toward the speaking Irken. “This planet is unbelievably hot, you must be feeling it too. None of us are having a good time right now. How about you just pay the fee to land your vehicle and we all go home.”

“Oh, money.” Dib dug out his wallet. “Um... okay, how much?”

The Irkens went back into a huddle, murmuring. This time, only one of them broke out of it, holding a small device.

“Place your currency on this device and we’ll establish the exchange rate,” the Irken said.

“Oh, um, okay.” Dib pulled out a $10 bill and placed it on the device.

The Irken made some humming noises as the device made calculations. It beeped when it was finished.

“Ah, yes, so it says here…” the Irken mumbled as they read. “The exchange rate from ‘Earth Dollar Bills’ to our monies is…” They screamed. “ _Negative EIGHT_?!”

“Oh oof,” Dib said, wincing, taking back his money. “Well… I guess… I have some gummy worms I can give away.”

Zim’s claws dug into Dib’s shirt, tearing through the fabric, but Dib ignored it.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out Zim’s worms. The Irken snatched the worms, studying them. All of the other Irkens gathered around, curiously poking at the open bag.

“What… are these?” one of them asked.

“It’s candy,” Dib explained. “You eat it, it’s good.”

The Irkens didn’t move for a few moments. Then one of them pushed the smallest Irken among them forward, closer to the bag.

“Kip, you try it,” the tallest Irken ordered.

The smallest Irken, Kip, who couldn’t have been much taller than Zim, gulped. They nervously dug a small hand into the bag, pulling out a worm. Then, very, very slowly, brought it to their mouth.

All the other Irkens watched with anxious anticipation as Kip bit down on the worm’s gummy skin. One of them looked close to fainting.

Kip hummed. “Oh!” they said. “It _is_ good.”

Instantly, all the Irkens dug their hands into the bag, eating the worms until the entire bag was empty. Against his back, in the midst of the noise, Dib heard Zim groan with heartbreak at the loss of his worms. Dib stealthily reached inside his coat to pat one of Zim’s hands comfortingly.

Once all the worms were gone, the Irkens lined up in front of Dib with their hands behind their backs. “Your payment has been deemed acceptable,” the tallest Irken announced. “We will escort you to the holding bay where you will park your vehicle. We will leave for the bay when you are ready, but don’t take too long or we will leave without you.”

With a final curt nod, the Irken turned around, barked something in their native tongue, and then all the other Irkens ran back to their ships. Dib began walking back to the voot as well.

“Oh, thank the Tallest,” Dib heard Zim groan against his back once the Irkens were out of range. “It is so unbelievably hot under here, your disgusting Dib sweat is burning my perfect skin!!!”

“So _sorry_ , your majesty,” Dib said sarcastically, climbing into the ship. “Maybe I should have just let your people beat your ass for your war crimes instead!”

Zim dropped out of the coat the moment they were inside. He slammed his fist against the pink button and the windshield appeared in place, shimmering in the sunlight. Immediately, the oppressive heat dissipated.

“Oh, thank _god_.” Dib ripped off his sweat-soaked coat and threw it to the floor, collapsing onto his back across both seats. “I can’t believe you have a separate button for the windshield, too…” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Why do you make everything so needlessly complicated.”

“Shut...up…” Zim, who was crumpled against the floor, was struggling to take in breaths. “Why...is this _disgusting...CURSED_ planet... so _hot_?!” he complained loudly, despite this. Smoke was coming out of his Pak, and the lenses on it were flickering between gray and pink.

Gir popped out of Dib’s suitcase, mouth covered in chip crumbs and a sock on his head. “Sorryy! I’ll leave!”

Zim glared at him. “Foolish... Gir,” he wheezed, “if anyone here is causing the heat, it’s _Zim_.” He shakily stood up, gesturing dramatically to himself. “I have the most flawless Irken form that has ever existed.”

“You’re a homewrecker!!” Gir said happily.

“Thank you.” Zim turned to Dib. “Dib-beast, put your shirt back down. Let’s go.”

Dib, shirt pulled up over his face, groaned, his voice muffled under the fabric. “Give me a second, man, I almost died of heat exhaustion out there!”

“No seconds!! We leave now!” Zim slapped his hand against Dib’s shoulder, hard, leaving behind a red handprint.

“OW!” Dib rubbed the offended spot. “Christ! You’re the driver, dude!”

“ _You’re in my seat!!!!_ ”

Dib looked down at himself, realizing this for the first time. “Oh. Sorry.” He scrambled to get up, scrambling to sit properly in the passenger seat. He could feel his face burning from embarrassment and turned the other way when Zim climbed to sit next to him, refusing to let Zim see him in a state of weakness.

The voot rumbled under him as the engine sparked to life, lifting off the ground, and almost immediately, the enemy Irken’s ships in front of them did the same. As was instructed, the voot followed behind the army as they sailed over the seemingly endless desert.

Belatedly, Dib realized he’d forgotten to pay attention to how Zim started the ship, again.

“What are we going to do when we land?” Dib asked, finally turning to look at Zim. Zim was staring straight ahead, hands gripping the voot’s steering device so tight that they were shaking. His face was scrunched up in concentration, or maybe pain. It was hard to tell.

“You’ll need to hide in my coat again--”

“No,” Zim interrupted. “It would not be a good idea for Zim to... hide within the confines of your oppressive clothing again. It is far too hot.” He shuddered.

“Okay… Maybe you can hide in the voot this time?” Dib suggested. “We can wait for them to leave or something.”

“The voot has a disguise system for me,” Zim said. “But I need to be outside of it for it to work.” His grip on the device loosened. “Hopefully they won’t think to search the voot again, now that they trust you.”

“Yeah.” Dib crossed his arms. He hadn’t had the chance yet to ponder on how wayward their mission had gone in such a short amount of time, and now that the chance had arrived, he felt a bit overwhelmed. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck, and he scrunched his shoulders involuntarily, uncomfortable. His therapist had told him that when he feels overwhelmed, he should remove himself from the stressful situation if possible, or try meditating. Since there was nowhere for him to go, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

In through the nose… out through the mouth. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

His heartbeat was beginning to slow down. Good, good, good. He’s good, he’s okay. They’re going to get through this. Zim is an expert at space travel, nothing bad will happen as long as he and Zim stay together.

“We’re here, dingus.” Dib’s eyes snapped open, his heart rate immediately accelerating. They were in a dark place, Dib couldn't see anything through the windshield. In fact, he couldn’t even see the windshield. The inside of the voot was pitch black except for the pink glow of Zim’s Pak and Gir’s... glow-in-the-dark situation.

“Where are we?” Dib’s hands reached out, desperately searching for something to hold, anything. “Zim, I can’t see a thing!”

Something warm and familiar took hold of Dib’s hand, curling around it more gently than Dib could ever have expected. “I turned off the lights so they won’t see us inside the voot,” Zim said quietly, near his ear. “We’re inside their holding bay. Don’t worry, your eyes will adjust to the darkness.”

He was right, Dib was already starting to make out shapes in the darkness, including Zim’s concerned face next to his and the small hand holding his own. For just a moment, they sat there staring at each other, the pounding of Dib’s beating heart the only sound to be heard.

“Our friends are outside!” Gir suddenly said loudly, breaking the silence. Zim wrenched away from Dib, looking in the direction Gir was pointing. In the darkness, several Irkens were charging towards the voot. Their guns were not pointed threateningly this time, but they were clearly visible in the Irken’s hands. The three of them were still in danger.

Zim grabbed Dib’s shoulders. “Dib, can you get them to leave?” His expression was resolute, jaw stiff with determination, but Dib could see traitorous flickers of anxiety behind his wide, pink eyes -- flickers that neither of them would ever admit to being aware of.

Dib nodded seriously, hands coming up to cover Zim’s wrists. “I won’t let you down.”

The eye contact was intense, but brief. It was like having a conversation without either of them needing to say a word.

“Go,” Zim urged, pushing Dib away. He nestled himself behind the seats, hiding as best he could. Dib quickly pulled his coat back on, stuffing some clothes from his suitcase inside the back to form a lump. He then pressed his hand against the windshield to open it and climbed over the dashboard. Wherever they were, it was actually less hot than it had been before and Dib was immensely grateful. His trenchcoat made the heat just that much worse

“Wait for meee!” Gir jumped out as well, somersaulting off the dashboard before striking a perfect landing on the ground, posing dramatically.

The Irkens were standing close outside, different colored eyes shining brightly in the dark. The tallest one stepped forward, presenting Dib with a sticker in the shape of an Irken head with some Irken words written on it. Around them, Dib could see a couple of other ships in addition to the ships the Irken guards had flown over here.

“This sticker goes on your vehicle so we don’t impound it,” the Irken said. “Your...worm payment grants you two days of access to our planet. After that, your warranty will expire, and not only will your ship be taken into the custody of the Armada, but we will find and arrest you as well. Unless… you have more of those worms, of course.” They coughed. “Or, uh, monies. Actual monies. That would be acceptable, too.”

Dib took the sticker, staring down at it. “Uh...sure. Got it.” He peeled off the backing and slapped it onto the voot’s exterior.

The Irken nodded once at him. “Enjoy your stay, smelly,” they sneered, before turning back to the group at large. “Move out! We’re back on patrol, boys!”

Dib watched with bated breath as the Irkens all crowded back into their ships, not taking his eyes off them until they’d flown off into the distance. Dib couldn’t see an exit, or a light source that they could have been heading to. He hoped the whole planet wasn’t as dark as this.

He waited a couple more minutes still, just in case this was a trick and they were going to come back. But when nothing happened, he ran back to the ship, stripping the coat as he went, and leaned over the dashboard.

“Hey, idiot, the coast is clear! Do your stupid disguise thing already so we can get out of here.”

Zim popped up from behind the pilot seat, antennae standing straight up. “You’re completely sure?” he asked. His tone was nervous, but he was trying to keep his expression neutral. His antennae were quivering, and Dib wondered if he was using them to try and listen for invaders.

“Pretty sure,” he said. “They’ve been gone for a couple of minutes, I waited to make sure. You’re safe.”

Zim looked him in the eye for a moment before climbing out of the ship. He looked around, taking in their environment.

“A cave, huh?” he muttered. “Some holding bay. You’d think the Armada would have provided them with better resources for an invasion.”

Dib shrugged. “Maybe they’re strapped for cash.”

Zim gave him a weird look. “The Irken Armada would never suffer financially,” he said, sounding a bit defensive. “We’re much too--” He stopped, looked down angrily, and then turned back to the ship. “Whatever. Maybe they are. Let’s just get this over with.”

At his command, the ship seemed to reassemble itself, pulling out a projector for Zim to see. On the screen, Dib could see a suggested disguise for an alien race he didn’t recognize. Maybe it was the race native to this planet? That could be a good--

“Too ugly,” Zim said to himself -- or maybe to the ship? -- and it showed him another one. Zim continued to dismiss disguises until it showed one that looked similar to him other than a symbol on his forehead, styled antennae, and a different outfit. Surely Zim wouldn’t choose something so-- oh, he chose it.

“It’s perfect!” Zim announced confidently before the ship closed around him. Steam seeped out of the ship for a few moments, and then the ship let him go, revealing what was essentially the same Irken, just styled a little differently. Zim was standing with his hands on his hips and a confident grin on his face.

“Well?” he asked proudly, admiring his own fit. “Deceiving, is it not?”

Gir screamed. “Who are you? WHO ARE YOU?!”

“It’s me, your master, Gir,” Zim said with a smirk, eating up the attention. “You have been _fooled_ by Zim’s masterful disguise!!”

“Ahh!” Gir said. He turned around and started piling dirt in his mouth.

Zim turned to Dib. “You agree, yes? Zim did good?” He looked almost hopeful.

“You, um.” Dib rapped his fingers against his chin with thought. “You. Well! You, ah, hm. You do look different!”

“Yes, yes,” Zim agreed, satisfied. “Of course your inferior mind wouldn't grasp the genius of it, but I am, in fact, disguised as an elite Irken invader. They will recognize me as one of their own and let us go wherever we want.” He clenched his fists with a diabolical sneer. “They have no choice but to listen to whatever I say.”

Dib was pretty sure they actually would write Zim off instantly, given his height, but he wasn’t going to be the one to crush Zim’s spirit. “I see! Right then, do you know the way out of here?”

“Of course, Zim always knows the right way to go.” Zim jumped back into the ship, rifling through his things for a moment before emerging with the skateboard-thing he’d packed earlier. “It’s a big planet, we’re going to need a good transportation system.”

“Dude, we’re on a sand planet, I don’t think a skateboard is going to--” Dib’s words trailed off as the board began to float. Zim picked up Gir, a weird alien bug hanging out of his mouth, and jumped on the board. The second he landed on the surface of the board, safety straps latched themselves around his shoes, securing him in place. Zim then held out a hand towards Dib, smirking.

Dib rolled his eyes, ignoring Zim’s hand in favor of climbing up himself. He wobbled for a second, unused to standing on such an unstable surface, and would have fallen if Zim hadn't grabbed his wrist, keeping him upright.

“Hold onto me if you want to stay on the board, this thing goes fast,” Zim ordered.

“Hold onto you?” Dib echoed. “You?! Zim, I’m six foot! Do you want me to _crouch_?!”

“If you have to, yes!” Zim snapped back. “Trust me, Dib-stupid, you _will_ fall if you try to simply stand.” He gestured to his own feet with the arm that wasn’t cradling Gir. “I am the only one attached to the board. So shut your defiant mouth and hold onto Zim!”

Dib groaned, but listened. He sat on the board, sitting cross-legged, and loosely held one of Zim’s legs. It was so awkward and stupid, but he prefered this to the other option.

“Good.” Zim nodded. The hoverboard lifted higher in the air out of seemingly nowhere and Dib jolted from the movement, nearly sliding right off the board. He wrapped both arms around Zim’s legs unconsciously, trying not to look down.

“Let’s goooo!!!” Gir shrieked excitedly just as they took off down the tunnel. Dib didn't realize he was screaming too until Gir’s shrieks stopped and all he could hear was his own voice echoing across the tunnel.

The wind rushed past them with such force that Dib had to close his eyes, burying his head against Zim to protect his own face. Above him, Zim was cackling maniacally, arms outstretched as he took the wind head-on.

Within moments of flying, a light in the distance appeared, and before Dib knew it, they were bursting into the sunlight; and it was then that a heat more intense than any heat Dib had experienced before hit him like a freight train. Even Zim stumbled on the board in shock, wobbling a little bit, but fortunately still had his feet attached to the board’s surface.

“Zim!” Dib screamed over the wind. “Are you okay?!”

Zim didn’t respond, just shaking his head. He pointed downwards at a small town next to a purple ocean coming into view beyond the endless sea of red sand, and then the board did a nosedive, barreling straight for the town. Dib held tight to Zim, curling his legs under himself in fear that he may slip right off.

They began to slow as they neared the ground. Sand particles erupted from the ground as they landed, causing Dib to have to shield his eyes. When he was sure the air was clear, he lowered his hands, observing his surroundings.

They had landed outside the entrance to a small town that was bustling with life. On either side of the path were large tents and crafted homes, lined up beside each other. There were tables outside of most of the buildings, but no one was standing behind them. In fact, there were no native aliens in the streets at all. The only aliens Dib could see at all were patrolling Irkens.

This didn’t bode well.

“Dib-stink?” Dib looked up at Zim, whose head was cocked in a questioning way. “Your face looks ugly. Are you upset?” Tucked under Zim’s arm like a potato sack, Gir was giving him the exact same expression.

“I’m fine,” Dib said. He hopped off the board, landing with a soft _thud._

“Right.” Zim dropped Gir, letting him fall and land on his head. A small _hssss_ sound emanated from the board as it released Zim’s shoes. Once free, Zim immediately lost his balance, wobbling back and forth on unsteady legs. Realizing he was going to fall, Dib ran forward just in time to catch Zim before he hit the ground.

Zim let out a breath of relief, allowing himself to be held for half a second before registering the position he was in and wildly thrashing around in Dib’s arms like a cat who didn’t want to be cradled. “Put me down!” he demanded, panicked. “How dare you carry Zim!!”

Dib just scoffed, lowering Zim to the ground. “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Next time, I just won’t catch you, I guess.”

Zim stiffened. “There will be no ‘next time’ because Zim will not fall again!” he spat out. “You have witnessed a rare occurrence that will not be repeated!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Dib rolled his eyes. “Let’s just go find that Irken already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> barkbarkbarkbark thanks for reading i love you, ill be back whenever idk. next chapter is already written im just trying to finish writing the rest before i post too much


	5. gelatin bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys ask around for information, but have a disagreement on how to go about it. Dib decides to go off on his own.

Zim’s Pak opened, a wire shooting out and connecting with the underneath of the hoverboard. The board seemed to shrink in its clutches, morphing into a cube the size of Dib’s palm before it was pulled inside the Pak. 

“We should ask around,” he said as the lenses of his Pak closed, eyeing some merchant tables. “The residents here must know something, especially if there’s a defective Irken in their midst.”

“How does a defective Irken conflict with the Empire’s presence here?” Dib asked, rolling his short sleeves and pants up in an effort to combat the heat. “Do you think they’re in danger?”

“Most certainly.” Zim nodded thoughtfully, a hand to his chin. “They’re likely in hiding, we’ll need to be stealthy going about this.” He turned to Gir specifically. “You hear me, Gir? Stealth.”

“Stealth is my game! Gir is my name!” Gir announced, saluting Zim as his eyes turned red. They immediately went back to blue and he stuck out his tongue playfully. 

The three started down the path, avoiding a speeding cruiser, piloted by an Irken elite, that passed by. The streets were bare, other than a couple armed Irkens, making the area feel like a ghost town somehow. Likely feeling just as uncomfortable with all this, Zim tensed up next to him, looking back and forth at their dangerous company. Gir reached up to take Zim’s hand, and Zim let him. As they walked further into town, Dib realized one merchant was out, taking down their stand and packing up the available wares.

“Let’s go talk to that one,” Dib suggested. Then he stopped. “Wait, will they be able to understand me?”

Zim scoffed. “All business owners have internal translators, monkey-brain,” he said matter-of-factly. “This is obviously a town that was originally used for trading with other planets. It would be foolish for them to not be prepared for unknown languages.” He thought for a moment and then smirked mischievously. “Although, your _human_ language is rather primitive, perhaps they will misunderstand you on purpose in order to make you stop talking.”

“Hey!” Dib angrily bonked Zim on the head, who only laughed in response, clearly enjoying the attention. “Ugh, let’s just go.”

The alien looked to be on the older side, wearing a jumpsuit with a toolbelt around their waist. At the sound of their approaching footsteps, all six of the alien’s eyes locked onto Zim, who was surveying their stand with disinterest.

“Excuse me,” Dib greeted politely. “We wanted to ask you a question if that’s alright?”

The alien didn’t take their many eyes off Zim. “Your language causes me great pain,” they said in a thick, almost wet accent. “Keep your question short and leave quickly.”

Ignoring Zim’s guffaw and sweating for more reason than one, Dib rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well. We were wondering if there were any. Ah.” He looked around, and then leaned in closer. “We’re looking for a… a certain Irken.”

The alien stared holes into Dib. “You are going to need to be more specific.”

“Ah-- yes. Um.” Dib cleared his throat. “We heard, hiding on your planet… there’s a… defective Irken.”

The moment the words came out of his mouth, the alien’s face soured. They took a step back, crossing their arms.

“I will be of no help to you,” said the alien. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“Oh.” Dib wasn’t sure if they were put off by the question or was just naturally this unhelpful. “Oh, well--”

“Now listen here,” Zim spoke up, slamming his hands on the table. “My partner asked you a question and you’re--”

“ _You_ listen here, bite-size,” they interrupted, one slimy, worm-like appendage pointed right between Zim’s eyes. “You think you can come to _my_ booth and boss me around?! You both better beat it before this gets ugly.”

Zim opened his mouth to retort, Pak lenses sliding open, but Dib quickly grabbed his arm. “Zim, let’s just go, we can ask someone else,” he said quietly, tugging his partner backward. “We shouldn’t cause a scene on a foreign planet.”

Angrily, Zim conceded. As they walked away though, they heard the merchant laughing behind them.

“Must be tough to be so small!” they taunted. “Anyway, have fun failing! We won’t tell you anything!”

Were they referring to _Zim_ being small? Dib wasn’t sure how that was relevant to any part of the conversation they’d just had. Completely baffled, he continued to pull Zim until they were closer to the center of town. It was still devoid of people there with only the occasional Irken cruiser rushing by to keep them company. There wasn’t even enough wind to fill the empty silence, leaving Dib with a ringing in his ears.

“That ‘small’ comment was kind of strange,” he wondered out loud, desperate to break the silence. “I know that you Irkens have that weird height hierarchy thing going on, but I figure that only applies with other Irkens.”

“It’s not important,” Zim muttered, looking a bit subdued. “Why did you make us leave, Dib? I could have forced the truth out of their skinny little spooch.” He was asking a question, but he was talking so low that it almost sounded like a statement.

“I didn’t want you to get into a fight,” he admitted. “We can’t really afford to stir up trouble right now. And besides, we can get answers elsewhere.” Dib hoped. Their chances were slim with how few people were actually around, and the merchant’s last comment had him doubting. “This seems like a big town, maybe everyone is indoors! It shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Yeah,” Zim said, kicking a can. “Maybe.”

“Hey, don’t do that.” Dib kneeled down to pick up the can and then noticed with a sinking heart that there was trash strewn _everywhere_. Crumpled papers, broken pieces of technology, torn fabric, rotting food… It was worse than walking through one of the parks back on Earth. A cruiser sped by, piloted by two Irkens, and an empty beverage flew out of their window, landing at Dib’s feet. Angrily, he picked it up, prepared to throw it back at their ship, but they were too far away.

“The amount of litter on this planet is insane,” Dib said scornfully, now stuck carrying both the can and cup. “I wish I’d brought a bag or something.”

“That’s what my head is for!” Gir said enthusiastically. He popped open his head like a soda can, taking Dib’s trash shoveling the garbage inside. 

Zim gave him a tired look. “Gir, don’t do that, that’s unsanitary.”

“Actually, Gir, you _should_ do that,” Dib contradicted. “I want you to make it your personal mission to clean up this planet.”

“With pleasure!” Gir began shoving more trash into his head, much to Zim’s dismay.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dib spotted what looked like a very tall bistro. There was a bouncer standing outside, likely around 8 foot tall, who didn’t even reach the top of the front door frame. “Hey, why don’t we ask someone in there?” he suggested. “That usually works in all the movies.”

“You foolish human,” Zim said. “Alien bars are nothing like human bars. That’s a death sentence for someone of your… kind.”

“And what kind is that?” Dib shot back, crossing his arms.

Zim gestured to all of Dib. “Literally just… you, Dib-stink. You wouldn’t last a second past their front door.”

“Asshole!” Dib couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had the past ten years meant _nothing_ to him?! “I’m gonna get the answers we need, and I’ll do it _without_ you!” Turning on his heel, he stormed off in the direction of the building.

There was a scuttering of feet behind him and then suddenly Zim was in front of him, blocking his path. “Zim is not lying! The bars out here are not kind to anyone they deem to be a weakling. Say the wrong thing and they’ll _devour_ you!”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a weakling then,” Dib snapped. “I’ve always met your ass on equal ground, haven’t I? You tried to kill me for years, Zim, but I’m still here! I can hold my own.”

“You--” Zim’s feet were tapping against the sand rapidly, his arms stiff at his sides. “Zim is. Different.” He looked to the side angrily. “It’s a different situation. Zim is not…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Not what? Huh?”

Zim didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.” He pushed Zim aside, stepping up to the front door of the bistro. “Until you can give me an actual reason, you can’t stop me, Zim.”

Zim made an angry noise, gripping at his antennae. “Well, you’re going in alone then!! _Stupid_ Dib!” he shouted, stamping his feet. “Do not come running to Zim when they tear your huge head to pieces!”

Ignoring him, Dib turned to the bouncer. They pointed towards a measuring stick next to the door that went all the way up to the crease in the awning above them. Next to the six foot mark, it read “Must be this tall to enter.” Proudly, Dib stood beside it, allowing the bouncer to assess his height, to which they nodded their approval, opening the door to him. Sending a huge, smug smile Zim’s way, he stepped inside. Poor Zim wouldn’t have been allowed in anyway if there was a height requirement! Maybe _this_ was what the merchant had meant by it being ‘tough to be small.’

The door closed behind him and it went dark. For one horrifying second, Dib couldn’t see past his nose, but very quickly, the shapes in the room began to take form. The bistro was one room with several round tables scattered around the sides and a long bar at the end of the room. Every table was crowded with large aliens, hunched in a circle as they chatted amongst each other. Almost every eye was on Dib as he entered.

“Just like in the movies,” Dib thought to himself with excitement as he confidently strutted up to the bar. Even at his height, he could tell at least half of the patrons in the bar were taller than him, but his six feet were definitely doing him a favor. He slid into a stool, leaning an arm on the bar and tapping the wood to get the bartender's attention. They were standing a few feet down, polishing a glass, and turned to give him a bored expression. Or at least, Dib guessed it was bored. They didn’t have any eyes.

“Excuse me,” Dib greeted. “I was wondering if I could get some information.”

The bartender strode over towards him, placing the glass down. “Order first.”

“Oh--ah.” Dib dug into his wallet again. Shit, he only had Earth cash still, and he remembered the exchange rate was _awful_. He should have asked Zim to borrow some monies. “Sure, I’ll order a, ah. Alcoholic beverage.” He placed a ten down, praying to any space god out there that the bartender would accept it.

The bartender didn’t even look at his money, instead pulling out a pamphlet from under the counter. “Here, kid, look at our menu. You’re obviously not from around here.”

Dib looked at the menu, completely lost already. The menu was on what he assumed was supposed to be the space equivalent to paper, but it was wobbly and the text seemed to fade in and out like jumping between a jpeg and png image. He watched as the strange symbols shifted to English before his eyes, the text glitching every couple of seconds as if it were struggling to hold the translation. Next to the words there were colorful pictures of strange looking entrées, beverages, and even some items that didn’t look like they were meant to be eaten at all. Even with the transcriptions, Dib couldn’t understand what he was reading, as if the words had no English equivalent, so he decided to choose the one with a picture that looked vaguely similar to a rootbeer float.

“Um. This one please.” Dib pointed to the picture. “Here are my...dollars.” 

The bartender picked up the ten. For a second, they studied it, then shrugged with disinterest and turned around to start making his ‘drink’. Dib let out a breath of relief.

“So what do you want to know?” the bartender asked, their back turned. “I can’t promise I’ll have an answer.”

Finally! Maybe they were going to finally get somewhere with this investigation… “I’m looking for someone,” he answered quickly, leaning forward on his stool with anticipation. “I think they’re in hiding, but my partner really needs their help and we’ve come a long way to find them.”

The bartender stiffened, turning slightly with Dib’s drink(?) in hand. “Do you know their name?” they asked, voice lowering so that Dib had to lean forward even more to hear them.

“I don’t,” Dib said. “But they’re an Irken.”

They slammed down Dib’s drink. The… ““““liquid””””...sloshed around in the cup, a little bit getting on the counter. Surprised by the sudden motion, Dib jumped in his seat, nearly falling off his stool but thankfully was able to catch a hold of the counter. The alien in front of him looked tense, still gripping the cup.

“You’re a fool if you think you can discuss a topic like that in here.” Even without eyes, it was obvious the bartender’s attention was focused behind Dib rather than on him. And with a quick look around, Dib realized he may have made a mistake. 

All eyes in the bar were turned their way, which may have been normal based on the commotion the bartender had caused, but they weren’t looking at them. All their eyes, and none-eyes, were on Dib. And they all looked dangerous. Some of the patrons were standing at their full height, which must have been twice the size of a house, looking down on Dib as if they were preparing to turn him into goo with their thoughts alone.

The bartender quickly reached over the counter, picking up Dib in one fell swoop. Dib fumbled to grab his drink as they went, deciding that if he were going to die today, he at least wanted to taste whatever cool space drink he’d spent ten bucks on first.

\--

“You have to let me in!” Zim demanded at the bouncer, stamping his feet furiously. “My stupid partner is in there being _stupid_ and I have to rescue him _as usual_ !”

The bouncer just laughed. “Go drink some milk and come back when you’re grown up, little buddy.”

“I WILL GRIND YOUR BONES INTO GELATIN!” Zim jumped at the bouncer, slashing his claw-like fingers at the bouncer’s throat. Without even a blink of the eye, the bouncer grabbed Zim by the back of his uniform, holding him out at arm’s length.

“You Irkens think you can do whatever you want,” they said gruffly. “But ‘unfortunately’, you don’t meet our requirements. Sorry to disappoint.” They tapped the measuring stick next to the door with their free hand. “Our consumables are fatally toxic to anyone below our height requirement, and I’m not going to deal with the Armada destroying my tavern when you die.”

Like a scruffed cat, Zim went limp in the bouncer’s hold, but he continued to glare. “The Armada won’t come if I die,” he spat out. “They might even hold a celebration in your honor for doing what they could not.”

“Oh?” Zim was brought up closer to the bouncer’s face so that they were inches apart. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

Crossing his arms, Zim refused to meet the bouncer’s scrutinizing gaze. “Zim… is…” He looked past the bouncer’s shoulder, trailing off. He was high enough now that he could see through the window. Dib was sitting on a stool at the counter, looking behind him with surprise and a bit of fear. Then someone tall stood up in front of the window, blocking his view. He really _was_ in danger, Zim’s intuition had been right.

Swallowing his pride, Zim ground his teeth together. “Contrary to the uniform… Zim is. Not. An elite soldier.” He spat on the ground, hating the taste of the truth. “I am defective.”

The bouncer stared at Zim for a couple more moments and then let out a loud belly laugh. “Oh, that’s a good one! A defective Irken masquerading as an elite! I’m still not letting you in, though.” He flung Zim backward with the ease of if he were tossing a small child.

Zim landed painfully on his side, rolling a few feet before stopping. “What?! But...but…!” He let out an aggravated shout, pounding the ground with his fists. “You’re going to regret this! When my Pak is fixed I will come back here and then you will regret denying Zim entrance! But _also_ you won’t have time to regret it because you’ll be dead!! Do you hear me?! _Dead_ !” Picking himself off the ground, he limped over to where Gir had his head buried in the ground like an ostrich and grabbed him by the leg, pointing back at the bouncer as he dragged Gir across the sand. “Stew in the fear Zim has planted in you! Stew in it!!!!”

There had to be another way in. Zim was not about to lie down and let Dib get ripped to pieces just because Zim was ~~too useless and small~~ unable to get inside. He dragged Gir around to the other side of the building and kicked the wall angrily, hurting his tiny foot in the process.

“Is Mary in trouble?” Gir asked, tugging at Zim’s clothes.

“No, _Dib_ is.” Exhausted, Zim slumped down to the ground, back against the wall. “He’s gotten himself _killed_ because he wouldn’t listen to reason, _as usual_.”

Gir flexed his extremely thin, metallic arms. “I’ll handle this,” he said in a very deep voice, eyes going red, and then punched the wall so hard that his knuckles cracked. 

Tiredly, Zim rolled his eyes. “Stop it, Gir, I’m trying to think.”

Gir looked up, surveying their surroundings with a hand on his chin. He placed both hands on the wall, patting it rhythmically. Walking around the wall, he pressed his ear up to it in certain places, knocking with his fist. Sometimes he pressed his face to it, smushed against the clay foundation.

When Gir resorted to licking the wall, Zim drew the line. “Gir, for the love of Irk, _stop_ that,” he called out angrily. “I can’t think of a way to break in with you—“

“Master, there’s a door back here!” Gir called back cheerfully, pointing around to the other side of the building.

A beat of silence, and then— “A back door?!” Zim hopped to his feet, ~~feeling rather idiotic for missing that~~ , praising himself for finding a solution. “Great work, Gir!”

They snuck up to the door as quietly as possible. There was a window on it, but the door was at least fifteen feet tall. This was a building for very large guests after all.

Zim tried to open his Pak to use his spider legs but they only slid halfway open before smoking, lenses making awful clicking noises as they tried to finish opening. “Oh come on,” he muttered, rapping a fist against it, but it didn’t give more than a sad sputter of smoke as a response.

Okay so he was Pak-less. He could handle it, he’s had to work without a Pak before. He just needed to use his brain, and Zim’s brain was the most ~~incompetent~~ biggest and most superior.

“Gir, lift your master,” Zim ordered. “I need to see through that window up there.”

“Yes, sir!” Gir threw Zim over his shoulder in a firefighter hold, much to Zim’s chagrin, and activated the jets in his feet. They burst from the ground, lifting them both up... two feet off the ground

Zim strained his neck to give Gir a disappointed stare. “You’re terrible, Gir.”

Gir just shrugged nonchalantly.

They continued to hover for a few more seconds before Zim began to struggle. “Gir, let me _down_ ,” he whined, and then yelped as Gir dropped him unceremoniously. He jumped back to his feet, feeling a headache coming on. Or maybe he was dizzy? He didn’t have time to think about it when Dib was probably being ripped to shreds behind this door.

Zim reached behind himself, unattaching his Pak from his back so he could get a look at it. The pink of its lenses were flickering gray, smoke emitting out from his half-open holes. Of course it was busted, of _course_. Right _now_ of all times, of _COURSE_ Zim’s ~~horrible, useless, defective~~ Pak decided not to work. With a snarl, Zim slapped the device back on himself. Dib was as good as dead by now, even if he managed to get inside at all. He hadn’t even realized he’d started pulling on his antennae until he felt the spark of pain.

Forget this! He was going to break down this door with his fists, whether Dib was dead or not! Clenching his fists, Zim began beating on the door with as much ferocious power as he could muster. With an excited squeal, Gir joined him in the beatdown.

“Let Zim in _right now_ !” Zim shouted. “You cannot keep the Dib, he is my _partner_ ! You are not allowed to have him! You--”

Much to his surprise, the door swung open. Zim fell forward from the lack of support, looking upward as he caught his balance. Standing in the doorway was a very tall alien with no eyes and next to him was a very alive, very confused Dib.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he's fine, he just had some battery acid. just think of it like he drank mountain dew that is toxic to anyone under 6 feet.


End file.
